


Where The Nodding Violet Grows

by escape2020



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Berkshire Mountains, Blood and Injury, Breeding, Dryad!Rey, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Naturalist!Ben, Nymphs & Dryads, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29119287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escape2020/pseuds/escape2020
Summary: Ben has just left his life as a physician, much to the disappointment of his parents, to pursue a more fulfilling life in nature. When he's out hiking one day, he spots a beautiful and mysterious creature in the forest, only to find that the townspeople have been trying to hunt her down for years. Ben feels inexplicably drawn to her and makes it his mission to protect her from those that would do her harm.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW: talk of miscarriage, childbirth, and death (brief) 
> 
> Thank you @SolarLilith for beta-reading <3
> 
> Bonus points to anyone who can guess what the title is from!

Ben had never felt more alive than in this moment. The day was fresh and sunny, the air bracing; perfect for a hike through the Berkshire Mountains of Massachusetts. He had left his home in Virginia to pursue a better life, one steeped in the wonders of the natural world. After working several years as a physician, following the wishes of his parents, he’d had to break free of the monotony. Suturing and bandaging and mopping feverish foreheads could never hold a candle to the joys of laying flat on the ground, examining tiny mosses under the lens of a magnifying glass. The forest held endless fascination and beauty, and Ben had finally decided that it was time to stop wasting his years in the emergency ward of his family’s hospital. For once, he was going to follow his heart.  
After packing some clothes and a few sentimental belongings, he took a train up to Boston, then found a taxi driver willing to drive him into the mountains. Upon arriving in the small town of Pittsfield, located in the foothills of the Berkshire Mountains, Ben checked into a bed and breakfast, the Endor Inn, and purchased a map from the country store down the road. His plan was to spend the next several weeks hiking through the mountains in search of… something. What exactly? He wasn’t quite sure. He wanted to find something that would set his heart alight. Something that would bring him joy and peace and wonder for the rest of his days. Once he found that, he would buy a small parcel of land and build a cabin. There, he could live close to nature, far from the groans of sickly hospital patients, far from the stern eyes of his father, and far from his mother’s disappointment. They might never understand that he had to live a different life than them. Maybe, one day, Ben would come to terms with that.  
He came to a rest at a rocky outcropping with a stunning view. Taking out his binoculars, newly purchased for the expedition, he took in his surroundings. Fall in New England was a breathtaking sight. Below him, as far as the eye could see, was a vibrant palette of reds, burnt orange, and bright yellow. These mountains, painted in their autumn mosaic, were now his home. Ben smiled to himself at this realization, then packed away his binoculars, tightened the laces on his leather boots, and continued hiking into the valley he could see below, bisected by a sparkling stream.  
The descent was hard on his knees. At thirty-four years old, he had to remember that his body wasn’t what it used to be. The landscape was formed from receding glaciers that had left coarse, rocky terrain in their wake; every step he took on his descent into the valley was a leap or a lunge that put strain on his joints — one unsure step and he could end up alone in the woods with a broken ankle. Though he felt the physical strain, Ben’s mood couldn’t be dampened by petty concerns like the gradual, insidious ravages of age. He knew his body would strengthen and adapt to the land; all he needed was time, and he had plenty of that.  
When the ground finally leveled beneath his feet, Ben followed the sound of water to the edge of a rambling brook. He dropped his gear onto a bed of moss and rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Crouching down on the stream bank, Ben cupped his palms together to scoop from the stream and rinsed the sweat from his face, allowing the cool water to run down his chest. There was something revitalizing about washing his face in a mountain stream — such a mundane task, and yet, he had never felt more alive.  
Just as he was about to get up, a rustling in the brush caught his attention. It sounded like it came from the opposite bank, but when he looked up at the source, the sun shone in his eyes, making it difficult to discern what had made the noise. Against the bright light, he could see part of a silhouette — it looked to be some sort of animal, maybe a deer. Ben wiped away the water that clung to his lashes, then shielded his eyes to look again. It was mostly obscured by the shrubbery, but, yes, he could definitely see a small pair of antlers. Ben stayed still so as not to startle it; this was the first wildlife he’d seen in Massachusetts besides birds and squirrels, and he wanted to savor the moment. Though his knees ached from the position and the strain of the day’s hike, Ben stayed crouched low and waited to see if he could glimpse the animal in full. His patience was rewarded when, a minute later, it stepped to the edge of the stream and out of the glaring sunlight that blocked his view.  
Had he not been a physician, trained to remain calm under pressure, Ben might have jumped up from his position right at that moment. His emotions flipped through a quick succession of shock, horror, intrigue, then awe. The creature by the stream was no deer, nor any animal he had ever seen or read of. It looked like a human woman, but somehow born of the forest. Tiny red-capped mushrooms sprouted from her shoulders, moss grew down the sides of her legs, and when she took off her coarsely woven dress, he could see that little white and purple flowers had created a miniature garden at the apex of her thighs. Her skin was tinted light green, like the color of freshly unfurled leaves. Her face, with almond-shaped eyes and high, slanting cheekbones, was framed by a wild mess of chestnut-colored hair, and crowned by the antlers he had first seen. She was beautiful. Ben felt like he had passed through an invisible veil between worlds. He thought he must be looking upon a forest spirit, a goddess of nature.  
Ben drew soft, shallow breaths, terrified he would alert this ethereal creature of his presence if he so much as exhaled too loudly. He watched wide-eyed as she stepped into the water, seemingly unaffected by the cold. When she reached the middle of the stream, the current running just under her breasts, she tilted her head back to soak her hair. When she stood back up, Ben watched the water drip down her face, darkening her lashes and reflecting light so that she almost glowed in the sun. She bathed herself, there in the middle of the stream, unaware of the voyeur that silently observed her rituals. Ben was mesmerized by the way rivulets of water navigated the curves of her body, trailing over the swell of her breasts, skirting the hard peaks of her nipples, and converging at her navel.  
Ben hadn’t moved an inch since seeing this woodland creature, but suddenly, she froze, hands resting on the back of her head where she had been smoothing her hair down. Slowly, she turned her head and her eyes instantly found Ben’s. He felt as if he had been electrocuted, and stumbled backwards onto the seat of his pants, catching himself on his elbows. Her gaze seemed to penetrate his soul; all of a sudden he felt like the naked one. His heart hammered in his chest as time slowed to a stop. He felt compelled to reach across the space between them and take hold of her, feel her wet skin under his palms and twine his arms around her waist, if only to confirm that she was real. But at the first move he made to get up, she was gone, leaping out of the water, snatching her dress off of the ground, and disappearing into the woods.  
Ben stayed where he was for a few moments, stuck in a trance. He wanted to run and follow her, of course, but he knew it would be a futile effort; she clearly knew these woods much better than he did. Instead, he stood, brushing the dirt from his palms onto his pants, and gathered his belongings to hike back into town. In a few hours, he would arrive at the Endor Inn, and there, he could ask around about the mysterious creature he had just seen. He couldn’t be the first to have spotted her, he was sure about that.

After dropping his gear in his room, Ben headed to the pub next door for dinner and a drink. Normally, he would keep to himself, choosing the darkest, most secluded booth, but tonight, he took a seat at the bar. He sat, sipping on his pint of ale, and scanned the room for someone who looked receptive to conversation. When a burly man sat beside him, wearing work boots and a heavy flannel, Ben gathered his courage and struck up a conversation, timidly introducing himself.  
“You’re not from around here, huh? You sound like a country boy,” the man chuckled at Ben’s expense.  
“No, I’m not, I’ve just moved here. I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about the area; I’m looking to buy some land soon.” The man silently sipped on his beer, waiting for Ben to continue. “I was hiking in the woods east of town and, uh, has anyone ever seen anything...strange over there?”  
The man put his drink down, suddenly more serious than before, and huddled closer to Ben. “You saw that thing, huh? That… she-devil, in the woods today?” Unless the forest here was full of otherworldly beings, they had to be talking about the same creature. Ben would never describe her with such a vulgar term, but he sensed this man was about to share some information, so he kept a straight face and nodded.  
“That thing had good parents, I always kept them in my prayers. The mother, bless her heart, had lost three babies before she conceived this one. She had a long, difficult labor; I only know ‘cause everyone in town heard her cries for hours, beggin’ to God to make it stop. When the thing finally came out, the antlers turned her near inside-out. The midwives couldn’t stop the bleeding — poor thing didn’t make it through another day.” The man stopped to make the sign of the cross before going on. “The father, well he couldn’t live with that abomination that had killed his wife, so the next day, he took it out into the woods and left it, screaming like a banshee, at the base of a big ash tree. He walked away and never turned back.”  
Here, Ben interrupted the story. “He left a baby alone in the woods? To fend for itself?” He tried, but he couldn’t hide the horror in his voice.  
“Wan’t no baby, I told you, it was a she-devil. No place for that thing in this good, God-fearing town. A few of us tried huntin’ it down over the years, but the damned thing got away every time.” His hushed tone was rising enough to draw attention from other patrons at the bar, and suddenly, Ben didn’t want to be here anymore.  
“Sorry, sir, of course. Well,” he pulled his watch out of his pocket to check the time, “thank you for answering my questions. Let me get your beer while I settle up my tab.” That seemed to calm him back down. He nodded in appreciation, then Ben said ‘goodbye’ and went to pay.  
After returning to the Endor Inn, Ben laid in bed mulling over what he had just learned. By all accounts, the creature - the woman - he had seen in the forest, was a monster. But he simply couldn’t reconcile that with the image in his mind. From what he had read of the Greek myths during his schooling, she was not a devil or demon, but a dryad, a benevolent spirit of the forest. More than that, she had been a flighty little thing, clearly intending him no harm. She had captivated him though, pierced through his heart with a simple look. He had to find her again, rumors be damned.  
It was decided, then. First thing in the morning, he would check out of the inn and begin his search for the beautiful creature of the forest. He had to find her before the townspeople did. They were small-minded, and Ben couldn’t risk them getting a hold of her first; they would surely kill her without a second thought. Just from talking with the man in the pub, Ben could see his blind hatred and unflinching desire to destroy that which he didn’t understand. Lying in bed, Ben made a silent vow to himself. He would find this dryad and protect her, commit his life to it if he had to. He would let nothing and no one stand in his way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: a bit of guns, hunting, and blood
> 
> Thank you to SolarLilith for beta-reading! <3

Ben checked out of the Endor Inn early in the morning, skipping the complimentary breakfast so that he could get on the road sooner. He left behind his suitcase, packing only the essentials into his backpack: a waterproof tarp, canteen, knife, compass, hunting rifle, bed roll, food rations, a med pack, and a few changes of clothes. Tucked into his front shirt pocket, he also kept a small leather-bound notepad and a fountain pen for recording his musings and drawings. 

He took a cab out of town and had the driver drop him off on the side of the road close to where he had been the previous day. Ben had no idea where he was going, if he was being honest with himself, but he couldn’t get the beautiful creature out of his head, and he knew he needed to find her if he was ever going to be at peace again. His plan was to climb to a high point in the woods and then look for the river valley he had hiked into when he’d found her. Then? Well, he hadn’t thought very hard about what was to come next. He was spurred on only by one thought:  _ I have to find her. I have to find her. I have to find her. _

By midday, Ben was still climbing uphill, sweat pouring down his brow and soaking into his linen shirt. It was an overcast day, but the air was heavy with humidity. He could feel the moisture that had evaporated from the vegetation rising in hot, sticky clouds around him. He stopped to take a rest when he came to a trickling stream, no more than a few inches wide. Ben dropped to his knees and leaned down low to splash water on his face. From this angle, he noticed a patch of tiny, bell-shaped, purple flowers sprouting from the base of an oak tree. He smiled to himself, joyed by their unassuming beauty, and pulled out his notebook before laying flat on the ground to get a closer look. Gaze flitting quickly from the flowers, to his paper, and back to the flowers again, Ben drew the gentle curves of the petals and the fine hairs that grew along the stem. He took care to record each delicate detail. When he was done, he wrote at the bottom of the page,  _ “Campanula sp., Berkshire Mountains, Massachusetts. Found while searching for my forest spirit.” _ After allowing the ink to dry, Ben packed his notebook away and continued on his hike.

Finally, another hour later, Ben reached a mountain peak. When he looked down at the valley below, though, it didn’t look as it had yesterday. There were different curves in the stream and different peaks on the opposite side of the valley. He couldn’t see any other streams though, so he started his descent, refusing to believe that he was lost; maybe this was just another point along the same body of water. If he had made some sort of miscalculation during the hike, it didn’t quite matter — he would comb through every tree on every mountain if need be. Ben knew from his first look that he and the dryad shared a special connection, something almost supernatural, and he trusted that his travels would bring him to her once more.

On the descent, the sky grew darker and the air more oppressive. It was hard to see much through the dense canopy overhead, but when Ben heard the distant rumbling of thunder, he quickened his step. He had just reached the soft, grassy soil of the valley when lightning flashed across the sky and raindrops began to patter through the layers of leaves above. Ben sighed in resignation — he wasn’t going to make much progress in a thunderstorm, so he took out his tarp to set up a temporary shelter. He strung it up between the roots of a large, overturned maple tree and the low branches of a nearby spruce, making sure to pitch it at an angle that the water could easily run off of. Then, he propped his bed roll behind his head as a pillow, and sat watching the rain shatter the surface of the stream.

A loud crack of thunder woke Ben; his eyes flew open to see the beautiful dryad with one hand hovering inches from his cheek. Her eyes were wide, like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar. She was so close he could count the freckles on her face and watch individual droplets of water bead on her skin. For a moment, he felt frozen in time, blessed with the good fortune to drink in her features for a few seconds. He tried frantically to commit her face to memory, knowing that the first movement he made would cause the flighty little creature to run. When she saw his eyes track down to her wrist, she leapt back, narrowly missing his hand darting out to grab her. She took another second to scan his form, still slouched against the tree roots, then vanished into the woods. Ben smiled to himself, rubbing one hand over his face. She had been looking for him. Maybe she’d felt the same connection?

The rain continued on through the night, so Ben stayed in his shelter. To occupy his time, he cut away a knot in the tree roots and whittled it with his knife until he formed a pale yellow heart. The next morning, before leaving camp, he nestled the heart in the middle of the tree roots with the hope that his dryad would come back to find him and accept his gift.

The next several days were less exciting. Ben hiked, made camp, and waited for the forest spirit to return, but he had yet to see her again. On the fourth day without a sighting, he started to worry. What if it had been a fluke? Maybe she hadn’t meant to find him during the thunderstorm and he was projecting significance onto the meeting. That was a depressing thought, so he pushed it away. 

On the fifth day, Ben was kneeling in the dirt arranging logs for a fire when he heard a loud  _ crack _ in the distance. His brows knit together. It wasn’t raining, and that sound certainly wasn’t thunder. He stood up suddenly — it was a gunshot. Without knowing anything of the circumstances, he immediately feared for his dryad’s life. Ben stuffed his belongings into his pack, took his own rifle in hand, and abandoned the camp that he’d been setting up. The voices of shouting men carried through the air, and he followed, first walking, then running as his mind conjured images of the forest creature bleeding out. When the voices were clear enough to distinguish, Ben crouched low behind the trunk of a mature hemlock tree.

“I think I hit her! Did anyone see where that freak went?” Ben couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like the voice of the man from the pub.

“That way, let’s go get the body,” another voice answered. Ben’s heart nearly stopped. Gruesome images came flooding back to his mind, along with a deep sense of despair.  _ No. She can’t be dead. _ Ben sprang up and scanned the forest in front of him. He had to find her before the townspeople did. 

“Mmmm,” came a soft groan. It sounded nearby. A second later, he saw some ferns rustling and ran towards them. It was  _ her _ . Ben fell to his knees by her side and slipped his hands behind her back to cradle her body against his chest. Red bloomed from her shoulder, saturating the rough-spun of her shift dress.

“No, no, no. You’re okay, you’re okay. I have to get you out of here.” Ben scooped her into his arms, quickly glanced around for her attackers, and set off in the opposite direction that their voices had gone. Ben looked down to see the dryad’s face pale, her head lolling to the side in the crook of his arm. When he came to a dense stand of trees, he decided that he couldn’t wait any longer to inspect her wound, as the blood was beginning to drip between his fingers.

Ben gently placed her barely conscious form on the ground and pulled out his med pack. He ripped the cloth away from her shoulder to find a bullet wound, then sighed a breath of relief when he found the exit site. Wordlessly, with the focus of a trained physician, Ben cleaned her green, mossy skin with the water from his canteen, padded the front and back of her shoulder with thick gauze, and wrapped everything tightly with medical tape.

By this point, the poor thing was unconscious, but her breathing was slow and steady, so Ben tried to ease his racing mind.  _ I’ve seen this a hundred, maybe a thousand times. Clean wound, no artery damage, she will be just fine. _ Slightly calmer after checking her bandage once more, Ben began setting up camp. He put up his tarp in case it rained, started a small fire, and gently lifted her onto his bed roll. He was heating a can of beans over the fire when he heard the bedding rustle behind him — she was awake.

Ben went to her side and wiped a cool, damp cloth over her forehead. She groaned and mumbled, slowly turning her head from side to side.

“Shhh, relax, you’re safe here. Can you tell me your name?” Her eyes fluttered open and her fingers on one hand twitched like they were trying to reach for him, but were much too heavy to lift.

“R...Re…”

“What’s that? Try again, if you can.” Ben leaned down low and turned his head to bring his ear close to her lips, his loose black waves draping over her face in the process.

“Re...Rey,” she managed in a soft, airy voice. Ben turned his face to smile at her, though her eyes were now closed.

“Rey,” he said reverently, enjoying the feel of her name in his mouth. “Sweet, lovely Rey,” he cooed, “My name is Ben.” He cupped her cheek and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, wondering if she had heard him before lapsing into unconsciousness once again.

Ben stayed up all through the night, stoking the fire to keep his little Rey warm and occasionally lifting her head so that she could sip from his canteen. When the sky was just starting to the tinge pink of early morning, and he was sure that she would make a full recovery, Ben dozed off, rifle laid across his lap in case the townspeople came back for her.

He woke some time later to a grunt and the rustling of clothing. He opened his eyes to see Rey standing and gingerly slipping on one of his spare oxford shirts to conceal her ripped shift and bandaged shoulder. She noticed that he was awake when he sat up.

“Rey, you’re awake,” he said with a sleepy smile. 

“Ben…” she whispered in a strange accent. 

He wanted to make her some food and change her dressing, but the moment he made to stand up, she took a few stumbling steps backwards, then turned and ran. She wasn’t quite as quick and agile with her injury, but even still, she was out of sight in seconds.

Ben sighed and sat back again. He’d had her, literally in his arms mere hours ago, and now she was lost to him again. But he couldn’t help the way his heart warmed when he thought of their short time together. 

“Rey...Rey…” he said, turning the word over in his mouth. He grinned. She had a name, one as beautiful as she was, and she’d even said his. Nothing had ever sounded so melodic as his name coming from her lips, even if she had fled moments later. He knew nothing of her but her name and the contours of her face, and yet, he knew those details would sustain him until the next time he ran into her. Because he knew they would meet again. Ben believed that fate had brought him to Rey, it had allowed him to save her, and that had to be for a reason. Fate would bring them together once more. In his heart, and in his soul, Ben believed this to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you're enjoying the story so far :)
> 
> Twitter: @escape_2020_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!
> 
> If you're on Twitter, come find me at: @escape_2020_


End file.
